I'm not Sorry
by sasskage
Summary: Basic PWP sinja. Ja'far's not sorry for his bedroom activities with his king.


"Shh," Sin mused, running his hand against the bare of the general's back, leaning down to kiss his freckled shoulder blade. His other hand, however, begun mercilessly working on Ja'far from behind, deeply thrusting in without so much as a warning. Sinbad smirked. "It's okay," he said, gently sucking on the skin of his general, relishing in the feel of Ja'far's needy ruts against his hand. "I'm going to make you feel good, okay?"

"S—sin—_ah!" _The usual reserved general was beginning to fall apart due to his king's skilled hands. He could feel Sinbad's fingers press against his walls, looking for the one spot that would make Ja'far come undone completely, teasing him as he did so. "Please, Sin," Ja'far moaned.

He wasn't one to beg. God, did he hate giving in to Sin like this—to indulge on Sinbad's perverted escapades and his own selfish needs. But he found he also had a lack of self-restrain when it came to Sinbad. A want that filled him so deeply it was amazing he was able to keep it in check at all.

It felt so downright inappropriate to be with his king like this, in the man's own bed. But, it was Sinbad himself who had dragged him here. So, by default, he supposed he was only complying with his king's wishes, and that eased the guilt some.

"What is it, Ja'far?" Sinbad asked, pushing his fingers in deeper, making his favorite general an exhalant of moans and whimpers.

The freckled man groaned, burying his face deeper into the pillow so that the older wouldn't be able to see his face—stained by his humiliation and contempt. A red that swallowed his pale complexion down to his collarbone and to the tips of his ears. "I want you…Sin."

Sinbad pushed his nose into the downed white hair that, where it connected with the scalp, had just begun to collect the sweat from his arousal. He kissed the man's head, his fingers beginning to move more harshly and faster than before. Ja'far unwilling bucked his hips, back arching into the other.

"Be more specific, Ja'far," he teased.

"Inside. Your…._hnng_—I want you inside of me." Sinbad stopped his torturous ministrations, pulling his fingers out to run them across each of his general's ass cheeks, pushing them apart, much to Ja'far's dismay.

"I guess I have no other choice but to comply then, hm?" Ja'far let out another loud noise as Sinbad pushed into him, giving him just a teasing thrust before pushing all the way in—burying himself to the hilt into the smaller, lust driven man.

It was so very rare for Ja'far to submit to him so completely, so willingly that Sinbad couldn't help but to savor the moment, sitting up to admire the man beneath him, running his hands over the pale hips and freckled back. He let out a little hum of appreciation.

Something about this man, who he'd known for what felt like almost a lifetime, was so alluring and captivating that he had no will against the stronghold Ja'far held on him. There was no point in denying his unruly affections for him, and he didn't plan to. Sinbad gave another experimental thrust, basking in the whine that he received.

"Do you like that, Ja'far?" He asked, having no shame in the lewd of the situation. Of the way Ja'far seemed to push himself further down, nodding his head, pushing his hips back into Sinbad in hopes of getting him to move, again.

Sinbad ran his hand down the man's back, smiling when Ja'far followed the movement with his body, creating a gentle rhythm of his own in the terms of being too impatient.

The king let out a chuckle, grabbing a fistful of hair and pulling his subordinate up, to where Ja'far's body was flush against his own. The freckled man let out a sharp cry, squeezing his eyes shut tight as Sinbad began moving inside of him, his other arm wrapping around Ja'far's waist to keep him in place.

Neither man held back in their noises, being too far gone to really care if they were too loud. Or too rough. Sinbad moved harshly against the smaller body, the other not seeming to mind just how mercilessly he was taking him. And, with each sharp movement of the king's hips came another sharp cry from his general, Sinbad's name quickly following.

Sinbad panted into the other's neck, drawing his hand down Ja'far's abdomen before taking his cock into his hand, fisting it in time with his thrusts.

"Fu—ahh—Sin!" Ja'far called, head following back to rest of Sinbad's shoulder. He could feel the familiar tightening sensation in the pit of his stomach, a breathless pant befalling his lips and against Sinbad's jaw as he kissed his way against the skin. "I think I'm—" he was cut off with a gasp as Sinbad pressed against his prostate, eliciting a louder moan than before. _"Soon!"_

Sinbad headily pressed his lips against Ja'far's, messily kissing him as his thrusts grew more sloppy and erratic, reaching the end of his own rope. Sinbad prided himself with being able to hold on longer than most. But, _fuck_, how could he when he had Ja'far panting against his mouth like this?

He felt Ja'far's body tense against his own, a hand snaking up to roughly pull at his hair as a scream found its way into Sinbad's mouth—Ja'far's orgasm spilling over his own stomach and Sinbad's hand.

Sinbad sped up his movements, finding his own orgasm just around the corner. Both fell to the bed, giving him a better angle to thrust at, Ja'far's face once again burying into the many pillows that were there, biting harshly into the down as blunt fingernails buried into Sinbad's arm.

"Ah, fuck, Ja'far," he breathed into the man's neck, giving one final thrust into him before completely falling off of the edge and into a bliss so strong it wracked his entire body. His face buried itself into the side of his lover's neck, his panting drawing a shiver from the younger.

"Sin."

"Hm?" The king blissfully hummed, rolling off the smaller and pulling him into his arms. The general silently assessed the king, dubiously staring at him. Sinbad kissed his nose.

"Fine. I'm sorry," Sinbad chuckled, running his hand down Ja'far's spine.

"You don't sound sorry."

"You didn't sound so against it just seconds before, either." Ja'far frowned, defeated, leaning his head onto Sinbad's shoulder. He didn't regret lying in bed with this man whom he held so dear to him. But that didn't stop the regret from washing over him, the doubt from filling up his thoughts. He wasn't sure if what they were doing was right. And, if they even should be doing it. But he didn't want to stop.


End file.
